Choosing to Believe Again
by IisepicMT
Summary: I decided I didn't like the Jack Frost x OC fan fictions so far, so I started writing one. I hope you enjoy. Not sure how romantic it's going to be yet, but I am planning on making it sad, and then maybe happy. I appreciate anyone who read it and/reviews it. Thank you. Rated T as a just in case it gets too gory or sad, or dramatic, or whatever. Might be a bit funny too.


I sighed heavily as I sat in the heavy armchair with my quilt. On the coffee table nearby I had my cup of herbal tea and a book about psychology. To a normal person, that would sound like a book that was only read for torture, not entertainment, but I was not quite normal. I found it to be quite fascinating, mostly because psychology was a field I thought about having a career in. Yet, at the moment, the book failed to keep my attention from the snow outside. I was sitting near a huge window in my family's chateau, watching the gentle flakes slowly descend from the sky. For a moment, I asked myself, "Why does the snow fall?" but quickly dismissed the question. I knew perfectly why the snow fell; anyone in a basic science class knew that. It was all cold fronts, precipitation, temperature change, and of course location that determined where the snow fell and how hard and how long it would last.

And yet, the weather report said nothing about this particular occurrence of weather. There was not supposed to be snow, at least not yet. For days now, people had been going through harsh temperatures and nasty winds, but report after report stated that there was no way that there was going to be snow. "Not enough moisture in the air yet", they would say, "it may be cold, but there is almost no humidity, so formation of precipitation is not possible."

But they were wrong. Terribly wrong, because for the past three hours, snow had been tumbling down, slow and steady. I had watched it build up all around the lodge, knowing that I would have to go out and shovel it, something I hadn't done for a long time. I actually didn't care about that at the moment. Nothing seemed to make me care. Nothing seemed important right now. I didn't care that I was all alone in the home that once had made me so happy. I didn't care about my first year of college that was to be coming up in the fall. I didn't care that my first boyfriend and I had broken up only a few short months ago. All I cared about right now was that snow.

It was about one o'clock in the morning, and I hadn't been able to sleep. I am not quite sure what was distracting my mind so much, but I thought that I would be able to calm it and lull to sleep somehow. I had driven up a day ago and had arrived very late. Being so tired from the long drive, sleep had come to me easily. Yet now, my head refused to lie on the pillow. So, I had grabbed my book, brewed some tea and had sat in the most comfortable chair I could find. I hadn't really paid much mind to the window, other than the fact that it was open a small bit to allow in a slight breeze. The home was ironically too warm for me to sleep in, because I preferred for there to be a chill in the air when I slept. It would make being in the blankets, warm and soft, that much more comfortable.

I had just sat in down to read when the wind outside suddenly picked up and had violently blown in, forcing the curtains to leap and jump away from the window. My hair whipped across my face, causing me to look away. Just as it came, the wind was gone. The curtains began to settle and my dark hair fell back down past my shoulders. I stared out the window, not quite sure why. It felt as if there was some kind of force that had captured my attention, something telling me to not look away, quietly whispering, "_Watch._"

That's when I saw it. A small, gentle snowflake, slowly fall and, by some kind of miracle, not only make it in the window, but land on my nose. I was a bit surprised that the flake had such aim, and that it was also the first. I looked out again, past my nose that was now slightly damp on the end, and saw more and more flakes fall. For three hours I watched the snow fall and I thought.

I thought specifically about my memories here, in my family's old chateau, which had long ago stopped making wine. I remembered when I was a child that my grandfather would make us all come down here, not entirely against our will, for all the holidays. At Christmas, we would all sit around the fireplace in the living room with the tree in the corner and tell us stories. The flames would lick up at the chimney as he spoke, describing Santa and the Elves and the reindeer with such conviction every word felt as if it would spring to life right in front of me. Easter would roll around and we would all look for eggs and my grandpa would cook Easter dinner. I even remembered losing my first baby tooth here when I was four, almost five.

Everything was so happy and we were all so close. Until my grandpa died. The Greif had hit my family so hard that we stopped coming here all together. No more Easter egg hunts in the old grape fields. No more soft singing of Christmas carols on the piano in the hall. Not even anymore quarters under my pillow when I lost my teeth, though I had so few to lose anymore. No more joy for me, the little twelve year old girl. I was often made fun of at that point for believing in things like Santa and The Tooth Fairy. Since my grandfather's death and the end of these traditions came at the same time, I had come to the conclusion that my grandpa had done it all. The Christmas presents, the Easter eggs, the quarters for my teeth. He must have been the Sandman too, because without him, I never had any more good dreams.

"What happened to me?" I quietly asked myself. I used to have fun. I used to have so many friends and I was just so … happy. I was funny and kind of a smart ass too. But after he died, I seemed to just lose myself. People stopped hanging out around me, and I seemed to distance myself from people. I felt so alone all the time. I didn't have anything left to believe in and everyone seemed to stop believing in me. I buckled down for school work and ended up graduating a year early. I didn't start college though for the next year. Instead, I just ran away from my problems. I ran away from my family, who just seemed to forget about my presence. I ran from my cheating boyfriend, the one person I thought I could trust. I ran from it all. I spent some of the money I had inherited from my grandpa to go to Europe for a few months, but I felt alone there as well. I was just lonely wherever I went, no matter who I met or what I did.

That's when I decided I would come here. I showed up the other day thinking to see an old abandoned building, but found lights on and everything in a decent condition. As it turns out, my grandfather had hired a groundskeeper to keep the place from completely falling into ruin. When I showed up, the man greeted me and said he had been waiting for me to come. Does that mean that my grandpa knew I was coming? Did he know I would come back here someday? Or did the groundskeeper think I was someone else? I am not sure, and the groundskeeper is gone, so I can't ask him.

So now I have to figure out what I'm going to do now. The date is December 21st, which means tomorrow is supposed to be the first day of winter, but it looks like it showed up early. I have four days left until Christmas, my first one where I will be completely alone. Only, somehow, it felt like I wasn't so lonely. It felt like this year, even though I was alone, would be the first one in a long time that I might actually enjoy. This snow, the small frozen water droplets, somehow gave me some happiness. I have no idea why.

That's when I noticed I was crying. I looked down at my hands and saw the tears had been piling up for quite some time. I got up to get some tissues from the bathroom to blow my nose and wipe my face. I went in and closed the door, which wasn't really necessary, considering I had the house to myself. I looked in the mirror and saw my green eyes were all red and puffy, my nose was pink, and I saw the tear streaks trailing down my face. After cleaning up, I sat there and stared in the mirror, thinking about the upcoming holiday. I was thinking about Santa, even though it was childish. I thought about what proof I had that he didn't exist, and realized, I had none. He might as well be real. The only reason I thought he wasn't was because he left when my grandpa did. So… was he real? More importantly, do I think he is real? I wondered if it was against the rules somewhere to try to believe again. Of course, there are no rules for what you believe in. There are no rules when it comes to religion, so are there rules about things that children believe? No.

I believe in Santa Clause. Even if it's just until Christmas, and I wake up without presents, or just a few minutes, and I realize I am being foolish. I am going to try to be a kid again, the person I was so long ago, when I visited here last.

Suddenly, I heard a thud. At first I thought I was hearing things, but it came again. _Thud. _"What in the…?" I left the bathroom and went into the hallway. _Thud._ It was getting louder. It was coming from the front door. I walked toward it and heard it again. _Thud_. It didn't sound like a knock because it was so muffled. _Thud_. I opened the front door and noticed it was covered in snow. Someone was, or had been, throwing snow balls at the door. I looked around and saw nobody, but I heard something. I didn't know what it was I heard, but there was definitely a sound. I stood there for a quite some time; until I was satisfied that it was just me, the door, and the snow. I closed the door, a little unsettled, and went back to the window. I was sure it was just some kids pulling a prank, thinking I was the groundskeeper. The snow was still falling, so I grabbed my tea, now very cold, my book, and closed the window.

I had never slept better in all my life.

The next morning, I awoke to the sun shining on my face. I got up and stretched, feeling myself tense up and release my muscles. I looked out and saw all of the perfectly untouched snow resting on the tall pine trees and the blanketed town below. The lodge sat up on a mountain, but not so high that the town was out of reach. A ten minute drive and I could be there, so I wasn't isolated. I got dressed in some of the close from my bag and left my room, to enter the kitchen. I brewed some coffee to help wake up my still tired mind and I grabbed a bagel from the small amount of food I had brought. I didn't really bring much with me other than my close and a few snacks. The home didn't really have anything besides some canned goods and the coffee and tea. I would have to go down and buy some groceries from the shop in town, along with some things for Christmas. First of all, I was going to need a tree, so I put that on the list. I knew my grandfather had decorations, so I could put those up when I came back. I remembered that we always gave Santa gingerbread cookies, so I looked up a recipe in one of my grandma's old cook books and jotted the ingredients down in my list. I never met my grandma because she died before I was born, but my grandfather always said they were, "Grandma's cook books," so I always called them that. Next I put down some things for regular meals because I couldn't just go down to the diner every time I was hungry. I also put down some things I would have to get to light a fire. Yes, there were trees all over, but I am no woodsman and I didn't want to have to cut down one of these lovely trees when someone else had gone to the trouble of cutting one down somewhere else. I wonder if people are aware that you can buy firewood at store, or if they all think people who live out here are lumber jacks.

I made my way to town, getting the things I needed from the grocers and lumberyard, when I noticed that there seemed to be a less significant amount of snow on the ground here then toward the lodge. I figured it was just my imagination, there was no way there was that much of a difference. I went on my way back to the chateau and parked, unloading the things into the house through the knee deep snow. I was stupid to not have shoveled it before I left. The tree was especially hard to get in the house, but I managed and laid it against the wall, because I didn't have a stand for it yet .When I was done trudging back from the car to the house to the car again, I took a moment to warm up inside before going out and shoveling. I went to work outside shoveling from one end of the drive to the other, trying to be as thorough as possible. I didn't want to miss a spot that could have been ice. Then I heard it. _Thud_. The same sound from the other night. Whoever had been throwing snowballs at the house was back again; apparently not aware I was outside. I circled a bit around the house, because I was near the other side of it, when I saw a boy in blue. He was throwing the snowballs at the door.

Something about this boy was strange. He was wearing a blue hoodie and a pair of brown trousers, not the kind of thing suited for this weather, and was accompanied by some kind of staff, taller than him with curve at the end. He had impressifly white hair that I thought could only be achieved through several times of bleaching, and it must have been recent, because there were no other hints of color in his hair. It was quite obvious that it wasn't his natural color, because white isn't anyone's. I don't think I will ever understand the current, "fashion trends," so why anyone would make their hair go through that I'll never know. He also didn't seem to have any shoes, another bad choice in attire for this weather. But, then again, maybe it wasn't his choice. His skin was a very odd sort of pale and he looked very cold. Did the groundskeeper know this boy? Was he in some kind of trouble? He looked about my age or older, so maybe he was a run way.

More and more questions popped up in my head. They were demanding answers. Whatever situation this boy was in, it wouldn't hurt to try and help him. I started walking up toward him, surprised that he had been throwing snowballs for so long. I paused not quite sure what to say, when finally, I spoke, "Can I help you?"

He jumped, surprised, and looked at me. His eyes were a very deep cerulean and his lips were slightly blue. It talks a very low temperature to make a person's lips turn blue. Yep, he was most definitely cold. Neither of us spoke for a moment. He just stood there, dumbstruck, while I waited for a reply. When none came, I spoke again, "You have been throwing snowballs at my door for some time, when I believe knocking might have had a more desired effect."

He opened his mouth and started to stutter out, "I was, uh…just…um, well it…it, I-," I stopped him and said, "You can tell me all about it once we are inside, it's not the greatest temperature in the world out here. I can get us something warm to drink."

He nodded his head and I lead the way to the door. The thought had just crossed my mind that letting in a stranger was not the greatest idea in the world. It was too late for that now though. I went in taking off some of the many layers I had on that were now soaking wet. The boy did nothing but lay his stick against the wall, as he had no layers to remove. I walked in and indicated for him to follow me. I went into the living room and pointed towards the couch and he sat. I then entered the kitchen and said allowed, "Tea or coffee?"

"Uh, tea," was the response. I got out two cups and began boiling some water while preparing the tea bags, the old fashioned way. When the kettle began whistling, I removed it from the stove and poured. I brought the cups in and handed one to the boy. I noticed that he had been looking about the room, but when he saw me enter he put his head down and stared at his hands. I handed him the cup and he took it. We sat in silence for a while. I felt all the questions swimming about in my mind. He didn't make any sudden moves, and didn't drink any of the tea. I wasn't sure if it was because he was nervous of his soon to be interrogation, or embarrassed he had been caught in the act.

Tired of being without my answers, I started with the biggest question on my mind, "So, may I ask who you are?"


End file.
